THE CASE OF THE BEARS AND THE BLONDE: CHAPTER ONE

Oh sure, it has
its moments – sniffing around for clues; chasing down a car, if you’re lucky.

Usually, though,
you sit around scratching yourself.

Then there are
those times you’ve made a difference – and you realize life is worth

barking about.

This was one of
those days.

At first, it was
nothing special – just a bunch of paperwork. (Yup, even with
computers, there are certain things you just have to do on the paper.) I was already
looking forward to chewing the fat with the guys down at the Red Hydrant after
work.

Then we got that
call from the Bear family.

Somebody had
trashed their place while they were out earlier that morning. It sounded like
just another breaking-and-entering – the type I cut my canines on when I was a
pup fresh out of the academy.

I drove out to the
Bears’ house, located in a suburban development called The Woods.

They were waiting
by the front door when I pulled up.

There were three
of them: a husband and wife and their young son. I tried to size
them up.

The husband was a
little grizzly around the edges. His wife was the
polar opposite.

And the boy? Well,
he looked like he just wanted to go somewhere and hibernate ‘til I was gone.

I stepped out of
the car and flashed my license. “Mr. and Mrs.
Bear?Joe Schnauzer, NYPD.”

Mr. Bear smiled.
“Please, call us Poppa and Momma.” He patted his son
on the head. “And this is
Baby.”

The names, I
quickly learned, were the only simple things about this case.

They took me to
the kitchen, where I immediately noticed three bowls of hot cereal in various
stages of consumption.

“Would you like
some refreshments?” Mrs. Bear asked. “A cup of honey? Some honey candy? A piece
of honey cake?” Nice lady, but a
one-track mind.

“We were just
sitting down to breakfast,” Mr. Bear recollected. “Porridge, to be exact. But
it was too hot to eat right then, so we decided to go for a walk while it
cooled off – 20 minutes, tops. And when we came back, the door was open.”

His wife turned to
me. “I told him he should have locked it.” Mr. Bear, in the
doghouse, nodded sheepishly.

“Anything stolen?”
I asked.

“Only a bite or
two of my wife and mine’s cereal,” said Mr. Bear.

I took a closer
look in the bowls. Frankly, this
porridge stuff looked like shredded newspaper to me. On the other hand,
I’d probably eat a shoe if you poured gravy on it.

“Now, you say they
took only a little of yours – what about the boy’s?” I asked.

“Somebody ate all
my porridge!” Baby cried.

Hm – a possible
lead.“Any kids in the neighborhood
giving you trouble?”

Mrs. Bear shook
her head.“They’re good children, all
the species – we all get along, the kids play together. That’s why we moved to
The Woods – it’s a lovely ecosystem. Now, then,” she said, smiling, “how about
a nice, honey-glazed doughnut?”

I politely
declined, and asked to see the rest of the house. In the living room
two large chairs sat in front of a roaring fireplace.

“We never sit this
close to the fire,” Mr. Bear said. “Whoever was here moved them.”

Talk about making
yourself at home. “Hope you keep
your housepaint under lock and key!” I cracked, trying to break the tension. Well, I thought it was funny.

Suddenly, I felt
Baby tugging at my pants leg. He was pointing to
a third, smaller chair that lay in several pieces. “Somebody was
sitting in my chair!” he explained.

Mrs. Bear shook
her head. “What kind of animal would do this?”

“One bigger than
your son, that’s for sure,” I said, kneeling down for a closer look. “See the
way the pieces are laid out? Somebody thought they could fit in this. They
thought wrong.”

A routine
observation, but Mrs. Bear was impressed. “You’re very well trained, Detective
Schnauzer.”

“Well, the academy
kept me on a short leash, alright.”

From there, we
went to the bedroom. Like Momma and
Poppa’s porridge and chairs, their beds had been tried out for size, then
apparently rejected. But the third…

“Somebody was
sleeping in my bed!” Poor kid – he was
having a tough time dealing with this. And frankly, so
was I – this was nothing like any lair invasion I’d ever investigated.

I had a litter of
questions: Why was nothing
stolen? Why was the kid’s
breakfast eaten?

And what was this
thing with auditioning the furniture? I was ready to
roll over and lay down.